


The Ones That Feel It The Most

by ithinkyourewonderful



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, I can't help it, I love them so much, someone help me stop, why am I spending time on this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 15:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16494947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkyourewonderful/pseuds/ithinkyourewonderful
Summary: She had hoped that time would’ve dulled her fixation, her adoration of Pippa Pentangle, but instead is simply made it stronger, deeper.





	The Ones That Feel It The Most

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I have no idea how I even fell into this fandom… I really, really don’t. But here we are, with a playlist and a fic (which I didn’t even have time to write, so I don’t even know how this happened), so I guess this is my life now?

Another thirty minutes and then she can slip away, Hecate thinks to herself as she walks along the balcony, another thirty minutes and the partygoers will be deep in their cups and she can leave with no one to notice her absence.

She’s always hated these things, but Pippa has asked her, and it meant so much to Ada and the school for her to be seen with the who’s who of the community and so, unable to say no to either woman, here she is. 

It wasn’t as intolerable as she thought it’d have been, but still a far cry from how she likes to spend her time. These things always took so much energy, so much work. They were so draining. If she allowed to be honest, it wasn’t just the party or the guests, but one guest in particular which made it harder. One guest who took all of her energy, all of her effort. One witch who never left her side, whose hand found her arm, whose eyes found hers and whose smile... her smile lit her up from within until Hecate could feel her own joy, her own dark brand of love bubble up within her and threaten to spill over and reveal itself to everybody. So with the well timed excuse of getting them a drink, Hecate slipped away and escaped outside to the balcony, to the cool night air. 

It was still early enough in the evening that the lovers of the party hadn’t found their way out to the shadows and the moonlight and the entire expanse of evening was hers. She could finally breathe again, letting the chill and the stillness help ground her, help tamp down her emotions towards the object of her unrequited and improper affections. From her vantage point, she could see Pippa flit from group to group, laughing and charming everyone. How could she not? She had a natural magic about her. A magnetism that drew others to her, and drew her to others. She turned away and steps away from the edge of the light spilling out onto the stone steps and back into the watery moonlight. 

She sighs and takes a seat on a stone bench set against the walls and wishes she brought a book. Any book. But she knows it would be moot. She would never retain a word she read, her mind too full, too focused on her friend. She had hoped that time would’ve dulled her fixation, her adoration of Pippa Pentangle, but instead is simply made it stronger, deeper. Pippa was no longer the headstrong young woman who dove headfirst into her whims. She was no longer rash, she no longer flitted from topic and topic, study to study. No, she had become an incredibly strong and driven woman who had seemed to find her focus. Who planned and examined every course of action before acting with confidence. Who had fallen in love with the depth of a study as well as breadth. She had become the brilliant woman Hecate always knew she would be. But there were, if you knew where and how to look, flashes of her younger self. Not the self she showed others, not the self they assumed they knew of her, but the core of who she was. The way she beamed at Hecate, the way she disregarded her personal space, knowing it didn’t bother the darker woman, not really. The way her flighty nature was almost a protective armour against the slings and arrows of others words, others opinions, for how could they land on her if she was constantly mid-motion? And there were so many slings and arrows - it seems a month didn’t go by without Pippa being mentioned in some context - her robes, her hair, her social life, her wizards. Rarely ever in the context of her school, her determination, her intelligence, her devotion to the education and protection of the next generation. 

She hated the space Pippa took up within her heart and her mind. It had taken years to banish thoughts and memories of her friend when she had first left - and while she was never completely free of the weight of her friend, she had managed to form a life, a career, a nook for herself. But ever since the spelling bee has returned Pippa back into her life, every inch of her life that she had clawed back for herself yearned what felt like it’s rightful owner. There had been a few shy mirror calls here or there, notes sent, a Sunday lunch, small steps towards reconciliation, but it always a distance, an invisible wall between them. 

Maybe there was no wall, no distance. Maybe it was all in Hecate’s mind. Maybe it was her own reserved nature, her own discomfort at being near the other woman, but never near enough. It was never, ever enough. She wanted more. She wanted it all. She didn’t even know what they meant, she had never had the opportunity or desire to learn what those vast and vague concepts meant. They were for books or for others. They were never for her. She had always dealt in the precise and the specific.

She clasps her hands in her lap. Surely thirty minutes have passed, haven’t they? It sounds like the room is louder, but it could simply be she’s fallen so deep into introspection that everything feels like an assault on her senses. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice murmurs, soft and soothing, as if speaking to a wounded animal and all once she hates herself for making Pippa feel like she has to step softly, kindly around her. “Here I am.” Hecate confirms, raising her eyes to take in the sight of the woman before her. She’s dressed demurely (demure for Pippa at least) in navy satin, small crystals woven into the material catching the light. Her arms and collar are exposed, her blonde hair is plaited and pinned up. She is... stunning. She has left Hecate (along with most of the party) well and truly stunned. It is not the first time this evening that Hecate has wondered why she’s here with her instead of one of the many eligible wizards - especially knowing Pippa could have her pick (not that she followed the news, but one hears the older students discussing as they poured over papers). The blonde glides towards her and wordlessly Hecate shifts over to make room. “When I realised you weren’t coming back with our drinks, I was furious with you.” Pippa begins calmly, her own hands folded into her lap, her jaw set firmly. “I suppose I should be happy you didn’t abandon me completely.”  
“I...” Hecate wants to say she would never, could never, but knows that she could and has so she offers up a quiet apology instead.   
“What was it this time?” Pippa asks. She’s not being cruel, but she also isn’t being as kind as she has been in the past. Hecate simply stares ahead, unsure of how to answer. How can she tell Pippa it was...she cannot even say the words to herself. “Oh, we’re back here again I see.”   
“I just didn’t want to get in your way.” Hecate admits.   
“No Hecate,” Pippa knows the use of her real name will draw her attention, “I don’t think that’s it. You have never been in my way.” She sighs. “It’s a wonder you became a teacher instead of a higher level professor. Do you ever wonder why?”  
“I...don’t know.” She’s at a loss at this line of questioning.   
“Professorship has more prestige, more money, more capable students, and I know you had offers - yet you chose to spend your time and considerable talents with children.”  
“I’m sorry my chosen field isn’t prestigious enough for you.”  
“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. So don’t get cross with me when you’ve just left me for the second time.” She pauses and tries another tact. “Who taught you to hate yourself, Hiccup?” Pippa can’t bring herself to look at the woman at her side, but a brief intake of breath let’s her know her question has landed. “I don’t know what you mean,” Hecate responds, her voice dropping to a sub-zero chill.  
“At first I thought it was your parents,” Pippa begins, “But it’s so much more and so much deeper than that. Did I ever tell you why I started my school? No,” She laughs, but there’s no joke, “I suppose I didn’t. And you haven’t asked.”  
“I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask you something so personal.” Hecate says, her mind trying to connect all the pieces of this conversation. She can feel the other woman’s magic shift and change beside her, the way a sailor can feel a storm on the wind. “I did it so witches and wizards could have somewhere to go where they could be themselves and learn that they could truly do or be anything they wanted. I built the school I wish we had, that we could’ve gone to. Where every child can feel like they matter.”  
“Do you feel that you didn’t matter?”  
“Why did you leave me, Hecate? Right now, why did you leave me?”  
“I told you,” She beings quietly, “I didn’t want to get in your way.”  
“You are never ‘in my way’ and I don’t know how many more times I can say it, how many more ways I can show it. I want you with me, beside me, always.” She looks down and takes one of Hecate’s hand in both of hers, “But if after 32 years, you don’t believe it, believe me, I don’t know what else I can do.”  
“Pipsqueak?”  
“I…had told myself I’d wait for you.” She begins, each word painful, like shards of glass being pushed out of her mouth. “But 30 years is long enough, don’t you think? 30 years of waiting for you. At some point, I have to accept it, don’t I?”  
“Wait? Accept?” These are words that she knows, but not in this context. In this context they have no meaning that could make sense to her. Wait for what? Accept what?  
“You are a brilliant woman, Hecate, so don’t insult either of our intelligences.” Pippa’s voice isn’t harsh, so much as hurt. Wounded. “I wanted to make something of my life, and I did - and I want to share my life with someone, and I wanted it to be you. I had wanted it to be you so badly that maybe I saw things that weren’t there. Things that weren’t true. Things you couldn’t possibly feel and I only saw them because I wanted to.” Pippa releases Hecate’s hand from her own and silence hangs over them. 

Try as she might, Hecate can’t speak, can’t breathe. Her body is…overwhelmed with sensation. The party has become deafeningly loud, not giving her the silence needed to think, to parse out the meaning behind the other woman’s words. Her magic is crackling with frustration, an invisible haze surrounding her. Her mouth dry. Her lungs working but…hollow. She strains to hear Pippa continue, “And I’m sorry for doing this here - but it’s now or never Hecate, and I cannot live with never. Not if I haven’t done everything I could. And I have tried everything I could except maybe the truth. Maybe I’ve grown less patient or maybe I just can’t live with having you always just …” Hecate stares at the other woman in confusion, in disbelief. Why does it sound like Pippa’s leaving her? Why does it feel like her heart is breaking and her world is crumbling and all she can do is sit on a ridiculous stone bench in a ridiculous dress? Why does it she suddenly realise how much time she’s wasted? Years and years and years she could’ve had had she only been bold enough, brave enough to look at the other woman and see - the love? The endless, unconditional amounts of love pouring out of her. To see every sign, every nudge, every touch, every act both large and small done for her, to make her happy, to put her at ease, to make her smile.

At that moment, Hecate Hardbroom realises she really may be the densest witch in world.

And then Pippa rises, taking Hecate’s stunned silence as confirmation, that her affections and attentions are indeed unwanted and misplaced. And so she turns to leave. She must’ve said sorry, or good bye, Hecate realises. Everything is moving too fast, too suddenly. Nothing makes sense. If only she could pause the world, collect her thoughts and organise them as neatly as she would her ingredients on her bench. But she cannot. There isn’t time. There isn’t the luxury. Pippa has risen and Pippa has turned to go and Hecate knows that she will not survive another separation. It will devastate her. This is not an exaggeration - the years have taken their toll, they have caught up to her, and this will be the blow to destroy her completely, knock her down to her already shaky foundations. So Hecate goes against every instinct - and yet, it’s instinct that drives her to rise, to reach out a long, slim arm and take Pippa’s hand in hers. It’s instinct that tells her to speak. “Pippa, I…” Her voice is ragged, her breathing laboured, her heart pounding in her ears. 

A young couple stumble out upon the balcony and immediately Hecate moves to stand between them and Pippa, using her body to protect the other woman from prying eyes, except they have eyes only for each other and they have already wandered away. When Hecate turns to Pippa, she sees such sadness, such…longing. Wordlessly Hecate knows what the other woman wants. She wants the same, and it’s not fair to deprive her of it. It’s not fair to stand in the way of her having that with someone else. Someone who will love her almost as much as Hecate would, someone who would be almost as devoted. Someone who would be so much more appropriate on her arm at these sorts of events. Someone who she could show off, someone who would just be better than her - a true partner instead of a liablity. More whole. More worthy. “Pippa, I understand.” She manages, “And I’m sorry.” And with that, she moves aside, letting Pippa walk past. The blonde makes it to the edge of the yellow light before she turns around to take one last look. She allows herself this luxury, of committing every detail about the other woman that she loved to memory. “I knew I mattered, Hecate.” She begins, gathering her composure, “I knew no matter what - my parents would love me and there was nothing I could do to change that. And I know you never got that from your parents, and I know many of my students - too many - don’t get it from theirs. So I try to tell them and show them, I try to show you, but at some level, if you don’t believe it, if you don’t feel it for yourself, I don’t know what more I can do. I don’t know what more I can give.” Because she refuses to believe Hecate doesn’t love her. She knows it like she knows the days of the week, or the spell to make her dahlias bloom throughout the winter. She knows Hecate Hardbroom loves her more than she loves herself, and she cannot live with that knowledge.

Pippa’s mother had passed away when she was a child - nine or ten - and before she died, she shared with her daughter the most important lesson that she had learned, that dying was easy, it was living that scared people to death. Pippa took that lesson to heart the way only a child can - basing her entire world view on this. Letting it guide her every decision. It was why and how Pippa was who she was. It was elemental and woven into her her very being, as much a part of her as her own magic. She cannot let her own life stall for a woman who would rather drown in her own self-despair than live. If she stayed, it would be too easy, too likely that she would drown too.

And so, with that last image of Hecate, drowning on dry land, Pippa forces herself to return to the party.

.  
.  
.

Hecate blinks. Pippa’s hand is still in hers. A young couple stumble out upon the balcony and immediately Hecate moves to stand between them and Pippa, and she wants to cry with joy that the last three minutes never happened. It was simply a product of her mind running through the possibilities, the scenarios, helping her chart the right and true course to take. She still has a chance, slim as it is, and she knows she has to take it and so her words tumble out in spurts, “I love you, Pippa-” She can hear the sharp intake of breath from the other woman better than she can see her, her body hidden in the shadows, so she takes a step, bridging the gulf between them literally and metaphorically. A very small part of her mind shudders at the utter banality at that thought, but the majority of her mind is focused on Pippa, her Pippa, and the feel of Pippa’s shaking hand clasping onto hers for dear life, urging her to continue. “I have loved you longer than I can remember. I can’t think of a time I haven’t loved you, and haven’t wanted to be beside you. Haven’t wanted to talk to you, touch you, hear you -” She leaves out a few more of the scandalous options - ones she can scarcely think to herself let alone say out loud, “I want you in ways that should be banned. But I can no more touch you than I can the moon.”  
“You can have me, Hecate, you just have to tell me.” Pippa tugs Hecate closer to her until they’re nearly pressed against the wall, pressed against each other, their words nearly whispers. “Tell me, Hiccup.”  
“I love you.” She confesses again, fearfully looking into the other woman’s eyes and watching them light up with joy. As if Hecate gave her the biggest, the best, the greatest gift in the world. And a pink frosted donut as well. And when Pippa beams at her to tell her, softly, “I have never stopped loving you.” Hecate’s stomach drops and her heart soars. 

They stay like this, hovering achingly close to one another, but not quite closing the gap, content to stare at the other, drink them in now that they are free to do so. Notice every line from age and joy, every shift of the lips, every twinkle of the eye and every rise and fall of the chest when someone clears their throat to interrupt. Hecate turns, ready to decimate whoever it was who interrupted what might have been the happiest moment in her life, when she feels Pippa’s hand, calm and steadying on her arm, protecting the intruder from her wrath. “What is it Colin?” She asks, not unkindly.  
“You had said to let you know when the Morningstars arrived.”  
“I did.” She sighs and turns to Hecate, “They’re our biggest donors and I’ve -”   
“I understand.”  
“Thank you Colin, I’ll be right in.” She smiles softly and dismisses him. Once they’re alone, she returns her attention to the other woman. “I’m so sorry.”  
“It’s fine.”  
“It’s really not - I’ve waited 30 some odd years for this moment and now I have to leave for -”   
“Your work is important, Pippa.” Hecate concedes, “Not only to you, but to your students. This has kept for this long, what’s one more night?”  
“Can I see you tomorrow?”  
“You can see me whenever you would like.”  
“That’s not true, but tomorrow will have to do.” Pippa smiles shyly and gently places a kiss half on Hecate’s cheek and half on her lips and just rests there for a moment before pulling away. “I love you.” She whispers, unable to contain it within herself. And with that, she pulls herself away from the other witch, and heads towards the party. 

The rest of the night passes by both agonisingly slow and unbearably fast. For it seemed to both women that tomorrow would both never come, and would come to soon. They found themselves orbiting each other, in circles beside each other, back to back, or just an arm’s reach away… Close enough to feel the warmth of the other, the tingle of their magic, but not enough to touch them, to take comfort in their presence. Eventually Ada and Hecate depart, Hecate can’t recall much of it, simply of being guided by Ada, of being thankful for the long flight home, the winds which helps guide them, but keeps them from talking. They land softly on the grounds and quietly say their good nights - Ada aware of the change in her friend’s mood and offering her the space to process it on her own. Hecate transfers into her rooms and sheds her gown, undoes her hair, washes her face. She feels the loss of Pippa’s proximity strongly and all she wants is to be able to make sure she’s ok, that she doesn’t regret her earlier confession. She wants to know they’re ok. She wants to give her space, but she also wants to appear collected, controlled, as if she wasn’t terrified by the events of the evening and what that may portend. In the end, she settles on message by maglet, a brief and simple ‘good night’, ambiguous in it’s meaning, allowing her to maintain her dignity and composure. She stares at it for a moment before darkening her room and setting herself off to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

She opens the door before the knocking stops and is both a little startled and relieved to find Pippa on the other side of the door, looking every bit as beautiful, and perhaps every bit as terrified as she was. Formal “Well met.” are exchanged, aware of the public nature of their meeting, and Hecate invites the other woman in. As the door closes behind them, there is a sigh, a loosening of spines and shoulders. “We have an awful lot to talk about, Hiccup.” Pippa smiles softly at the other woman, sensing her terror, feeling it ripple off of her in waves. “But first,” she gently offers a hand out, releasing a breath when Hecate takes it, setting Pippa’s world to rights like she always did, “Would you mind terribly if I kissed you?”  
“Kissed me?” The taller woman repeats back, eyes widening at the possibility, “No, given last night, I suppose it would be…accept-” The words are not out of her mouth when she finds her arms filled with Pippa, her senses all overtaken by blonde, by pink, by bergamot and rain, by softness and warmth and rest and the buzz of Pippa’s magic, familiar but near forgotten. The kiss ends, softly, their foreheads pressed together, as if after being united, the idea of parting, even for a moment is incomprehensible. “I have missed you,” one of them sighs, as hands brush over cheeks, over hair. Their breathing is heavy and while their hearts are racing, for once they’re racing with freedom, with the possibility of lightness. Finally Pippa pulls her head away, to take in Hecate, running her eyes over her for signs of injury, of fear, of damage. “How do you feel Hiccup? Are you…is this ok?” Pippa can see the wheels turning in the other woman’s mind, her mouth open as if to speak, but unable to get a single word out. “Hecate?” She asks, cupping the other woman’s cheek in her hand firmly to ground her, “Are you alright?”  
“I…” She begins, her eyes widening, “Am scared.” 

And there it is. The truth and the core of Hecate Hardbroom in a single word.

“Oh.” Pippa exclaims softly, “That’s understandable. I’m scared too.” Somehow she manoeuvres them to sit, on what and on where she doesn’t know. She only knows she cannot continue to stand, and so now they sit, close to each other, hands held, bodies nearly touching.  
“You are?” Hecate doesn’t need to ask of what, she can only imagine.  
“Yes. What specifically are you afraid of?” She can’t keep her hands off the other woman, lavishing calming strokes down her arms, her hands.  
“I…cannot survive another round of you.” She looks up and sees the quirk of confusion across Pippa’s brow and hates herself for hurting the other woman, but the truth has started to leak out between the cracks of her composure and there’s no way to stop it…she has held it in for thirty some odd years and the idea of holding it in for another thirty seconds seems insurmountable. “You’re all I can think about some times. Most times. Ever since you’ve come back, it’s just been,” She pauses, taking a breath, taking a look at their joined hands, “You. And it won’t do, to forever be distracted by you, thinking of you.”  
“Oh, I see.” Pippa says, a slow smirk spreading across her face, “Have you thought of giving in?”  
“What?”  
“For once, Hecate, just try to give in, see what happens.” She squeezes the other woman’s hand, “There’s room enough in the world for all things if you believe there is.”  
“Modern magic?” Hecate asks, confusion evident.  
“Love isn’t finite.” Pippa pretends she doesn’t hear the gasp at the word love. “Neither is devotion. They can be boundless. Let yourself think of me -” Pippa also pretends she doesn’t spot the deep red blush spreading across Hecate’s cheeks, “and maybe because you aren’t spending all of your attention on denying that, you’ll find you have room to think about other things…” Her voice drops a little, desire obvious. “Hecate, we’ve tried not being together, and speaking for myself, it was miserable. Why don’t we try being together? And if that doesn’t work, if there comes a point where that’s not what you want, then we walk away,” Her voice shakes a little at the thought of Hecate leaving her once more, but she is no longer a child, she is aware this is a very real possibility. “But at least we’ve tried.”

They sit like this for a moment, and then another moment, and then another. Hecate doesn’t release her hand, and eventually, she raises her eyes to Pippa’s, to look at Pippa the way she’s always wanted to, but has never allowed herself to. She looks at her like a woman in love. In the day light, she can fully take in every change that time has prompted, takes in every flutter of lashes, raise of brows, curl of the lips, rise and fall of her chest… “Hecate?” Pippa asks, all but drawling, “What else are you feeling?”  
“I…” She feels guilty having been caught.   
“It’s alright to want someone, Hiccup,” Pippa begins, curling into her side, finding a perfect niche for herself against the other woman, “To love someone. Especially if it’s reciprocated. And it is certainly reciprocated.” Arching her back slightly, no different than a cat, Pippa rises to meet Hecate’s mouth with her own lightly. Not insistent, but a gentle reassurance that her affections are wanted… Goodness, how they are wanted. “Have you ever…?” Hecate begins, breathless at the thought, but unable to finish.   
“Yes,” Pippa answers matter of factly, “And no. I have loved people and I have wanted people. But nothing like this. No one ever like how I have loved and wanted you.”  
“I see.” Hecate all but whispers.  
“Do you?” Pippa asks, curious at how Hecate would process the information.  
“I…believe I do.” 

They stay like this for some time, until Hecate catches Pippa yawning. “Tired?” She asks, her hand stroking the soft, blonde strands. Pippa nods and yawns once more, leaning into Hecate’s hand admitting, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”  
“No?”  
“No, can’t imagine what kept me up.”   
“Then may I suggest taking you to bed, Pipsqueak?”  
“I thought you’d never ask, Hiccup.” She grins, booping her companion’s nose, hoping to communicate that she’s teasing.  
“I was suggesting slumber, Ms. Pentangle.” Hecate explains, rising and offering her a hand, “They’ll be time enough for other activities.”  
“Will there?” Pippa asks, genuinely curious as she takes Hecate’s hand and rises.  
“If you’d like to pursue this relationship, I would as well.” She brushes back a stray strand of hair, and then kisses Pippa. 

Properly. 

There is tenderness, yes, but also desire, and teeth, and the promise of what lies ahead for them. 

“Well…” Pippa sighs once the kiss ends, her joy radiating off of her. She laughs, as she leads the way to the bedroom as if this is her own suite of rooms. She quietly sheds her cloak (she can’t believe it’s still on her) and her gown, magicking them into the cupboard to hang, before she turns around to face Hecate, who is drinking in the sight of her in her light pink slip. The mood has shifted yet again. “Is this alright?” Pippa asks, “I just know how much you used to hate getting into bed without changing. That much hasn’t changed, has it?”  
“No, no.” Hecate confirms, that much hasn’t changed. “You are…beautiful.” She finally says, rewarded with a beaming grin from the blonde witch. “You’ve always been.”  
“Says the woman who’s smile distracted me from beating her in chanting.” Pippa teases, taking careful steps towards the object of her desires.  
“Me?”  
“You. I had convinced you to keep your hair down that year…didn’t you ever wonder why I was so fixated on it?”   
“I…no.”  
“May I?” Pippa asks, raising her arms to Hecate’s shoulders and reaching around to the tightly wound bun. She begins to unpin it once Hecate nods silently, overcome by the amount of contact, of skin, of warmth, of proximity from the other woman’s body. “I thought you were so pretty with it down. I wanted to play with it all year. I have wanted to touch you before I … even knew what that meant.” She shrugs as she combs her fingers through the released hair. “I have waited for thirty years for that.”  
“I still find it unfathomable that you…are here, Pipsqueak. That you want to be in my life.”  
“That I love you?” She watches as Hecate tries to duck her gaze, but catches her chin with her finger and raises it back up.   
“I am…not an easy person to love.” She admits, shame forcing her eyes to look anywhere but Pippa’s. “I’d understand if-”  
“Hecate Hardbroom. You are an incredibly easy person to love - I have done it from the day I first beat you in Chess. And one day, I hope you will learn that about yourself. Now, take me to bed, I’m so tired I doubt I could fly straight.”  
“I will, once you admit I beat you in that first game of Chess, Pipsqueak.”  
“Not on your life!” She smiles brightly before muttering a quick warming spell over the bed. She pulls back the blankets and sits on the edge, watching her lover undress before her. She wants to laugh, she wants to shout it out, that Hecate Hardbroom is her love and her lover (or would be, soon), but instead she sits quietly, calmly, imagining the day she will be permitted to help Hecate undress, or even to magic off her clothing… “You are thinking something devious, aren’t you?” Hecate asks, standing before a sitting Pippa in a simple nightgown.   
“Always.” Pippa admits, looking up at her before wrapping her arm around the other woman’s waist and placing a light kiss on the gentle curve of her belly. She can feel Hecate stiffen, then shiver beneath her, a reaction more to do with her proximity than the temperature. After a moment, Hecate moves her arms, previously hanging by her side, and now wraps them around Pippa’s shoulders, holding her close.

They curl up in bed, facing each other, noses and knees inches away as they talk about everything and nothing - a return to their own private world from their youth. This time their hands are intertwined, given permission to perch on the other’s waist, the other’s heart, until they fall asleep like this. Their bodies and minds and hearts at rest, finally resting in the comfort of the other.


End file.
